i haven't been able to say anything today

i needed to do laundry
i didn't do it
i took a bath

i dreamed last night that my breasts
like tightened, or something
pulling into my chest
probably
because my muscles were sore from lifting
i moved boxes
from 7:30 to 2:30 almost constantly

my protocol is working
two aleves and an ibuprofen with an emergen-c
before work
i don't like it for my liver
but it is really helping with the inflammation

i think i use critical mass on the epsom salts



i'm 50 pages from the end in that book
and
ultimately
i don't think it can be
st this point
quite what i wanted
i mean
i guess i must have changed what i wanted a novel to be, slightly
well, not changed so much as discovered
that it was not complete so much as stated
somehow

because i am learning, i guess, about how being human is for him
[mostly we'll say]
but there's something
some bigger picture
that despite all his talk of singularities
i'm just not getting

and that is what i'm trying to figure out
if i'm writing something
for you
about you
because of you
whatever
that's the thing i'm missing

i don't think i mean like a moral
i almost mean a metaphor

i keep playing with the idea of landscape
i clearly want the questing and the desert and the landscape
the cross country and the cross roads
i have worked the images and the symbols
until they are
just are
us

but
i need to be saying something with the story
the bits of the story were all pieces
of me telling you things
and me telling me things
and maybe you telling me things
but that isn't the story
i thought it was

but
i don't think it is

i thought
the way to write it
is some sort of uncertainty magical realism
unreliable narrator
i like films like that

but this isn't film

and take american god's for example
it's a good book
i enjoy it
but
the ending
doesn't seem to live up to the rest of the book

no
i think i have to know where i'm going
i, as it turns out, have
structure after all

that little bit about the ravens
i have had in the book
in pretty much exactly that way
for years
often
i picture that as
the end

so then
i must have the story, right
but, no

that story
i could write that story
and i could give it a beautiful little human growth theme

no
no i couldn't
nor do i think the thing to write you is the image of our fantasy life

i could, i might write you bits of that
they become part of the images the symbols
but they aren't the story itself


so what is it you read the story for
what is it about me that makes me hard to turn away from
what is it about yourself that you learn by listening to me
and what do i learn about myself from my inability to turn away from you
and what makes this so much more real
than the stuff that i am medicating my way through

i was thinking the other day:
i used to think that i should start a religion
and, as i watch myself
i think that was not as all bad advice
[though it was meant to be somewhat tongue in cheek]
i think that i have a natural tendency to look for meaning
and i think, now that i really understand the cyclical nature of religion
the growth that is possible by revisiting psychological states
year after year

i think that that, somehow, is the story

does that
make sense

cause i'm almost thinking i'm on to something